


Poisoned Memories

by Six_Lily_Petals



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Anal Sex, Apples, Comfort, Fluff, M/M, Memory Loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-09 17:55:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5549918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Six_Lily_Petals/pseuds/Six_Lily_Petals
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fenris has to care for Anders after he is seriously injured.  The blades were poisoned and the after effects create a new challenge for the elf as he cares for his mage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Poisoned Memories

**Author's Note:**

  * For [incenseandteacups](https://archiveofourown.org/users/incenseandteacups/gifts).



> Prompt: Anders getting hurt on a mission, and having to be hauled around by Fenris because he’s out of mana/potions.
> 
>  
> 
> This may have taken on a life of its own, but hopefully it's still enjoyable.

_They’re coming for me._

Anders felt the familiar panic.  It was almost comforting, as if he were returning to a well-worn routine that made him feel alive.  He was running through the woods.  Branches slapped across his body and bushes tugged at his robes.  Fatigued and struggling to breathe, he was curious as to how he was able to keep going.

  


Actually, he couldn’t see where he was going.  He tried to blink, uncertain if his eyes were shut or no longer working.  He might have been successful, he wasn’t sure and didn’t care enough to try again.  Everything was dark but, he was fleeing and he couldn’t hear his pursuers.  That’s all that mattered.   

  


Drops of water splashed on Anders face.  Rain.  A fog of confusion rested on his mind and weighed his eyelids down.  At least this time around, he was able to make out large blurs of color.  The aches in his body were being aggravated as he rubbed against unyielding armor.  Someone was carrying him.  Drifting back into unconsciousness, he hoped that if he were captured, that he wouldn’t wake again.

 

A musty, damp smell assaulted his nose.  Anders tried to move away from the source, but his entire body screamed in agony, his head falling back down with a thud on the dirt.  Soothing words.  Tender hands comforting him.  A fire.  Someone was trying to dry him out.  How could it have rained in the Deep Roads?  No, wait, it was…he’s…

A warm body pressed against his back, limbs entangled with his own.  Thank the Maker he was with his love.

“Karl.”  The name was harder to say than he imagined, coming out hoarse and barely comprehensible.

The chest at his back paused mid breath.  The moment dragged on, until warm lips nuzzled his neck.  The soothing pressure applied just below his ear was his siren song.  Instinctively, he felt safe and let his body relax within the strong arms that held him tight.  

 

A Warden must be carrying him.  This armor felt different.  Anders was intimately familiar with Templar armor.  Once, years ago during attempt number four to escape from the Circle, he’d managed to flick the right buckles and have one of his captors' stupid little skirt fall right off.  Anders laughed, the sound never making it to his throat.  

 

***

"Anders, how are you feeling?"  The voice was husky, seductive.

"I know you."  Anders blinked into the sun, his thinking heavy, slow.  He was outdoors somewhere he didn't recognize.  He was growing tired of things being unfamiliar.

"You should, mage.  It's been a few years now."

 _Mage._  

That was more than familiar.  The derogatory a manner that the elf said the word made it sound worse than a slur.  

"Fenris?"  Anders tried to get up, but pain throbbed throughout his body.  It continued to pulse even when he lay still, making his stomach churn.  "Where's Hawke?"

Fenris quirked an eyebrow at Anders.  "How should I know?"

"But, he was...we were..."  Anders struggled to link his thoughts together but found it only made his head hurt harder.  It felt as though white hot rods were slicing though his mind.  Holding his head in his hands, he began to draw from the Fade to heal himself.  

Nothing happened

Anders squirmed on the ground, his arms reaching out blindly, grasping as if he could find his mana laying nearby.  "It's gone!  It's gone!  What have you done?!"

"I?"  Fenris became irritated at Anders accusatory tone, snapping at the man in a raised voice.  "I saved your ungrateful ass.  Do not make me regret it."

Anders tried to get up off the ground, his muscles refused to obey and his face nearly slammed back to the ground.  Fenris' lightning quick reflexes saved him.  "You are unwell.  I must get you home."

The only response that Anders could manage was a nod of his head before his vision blurred.  "I'll need help.  Are you certain you can stomach touching a Mage for that long?"

"Always."  Fenris had a naturally deep voice and gruff demeanour.  To hear him whisper his answer so tenderly left Anders feeling a bit uneasy.

As much as he wanted to offer a scathing retort, the effort of walking, even supported as much as he was by Fenris, was painful and draining.  He was thankful they were traveling at night.  The last thing they needed was to be stopped by some well-meaning Templar who wanted help and discovered what Anders was.  Time dragged on for what seemed to be an eternity, until Fenris finally laid him down gently on a bed.  The vertigo was too much.

"I'm going to throw up."  Anders turned to face the edge of the bed and instantly emptied his stomach into a pail that seemed to materialize suddenly beneath him.  

His body convulsed and coiled in on itself.  Acidic bile coated his mouth making his teeth taste horrible.  He moaned and whined as his body continued to heave even when there was nothing left but stomach acid.  Fenris remained at his side through every foul smelling second.  They were indoors.  Anders couldn't remember entering a building.  

As Anders hung his head limply over the edge, saliva dripping from his open mouth, Fenris placed a hand in the center of his back.  

Immediately, Anders twisted violently and smacked gauntlet off of him.  "What in the Void is the matter with you?"  

The sudden motion had set the world spinning.  Anders was certain that the disorientation was the reason he imagined an expression of hurt on Fenris' face.  Pinching his eyes shut, he worked on swallowing the acrid taste out of his mouth.  "I need a healer."

"Agreed.  You are too weak to care for yourself.”  In an instant, Fenris was gone.  

Free from the constantly judging eyes of Hawke's favorite companion, Anders gingerly took stock of his injuries.  He could only tell so much just from touch, but he quickly determined he was lucky to be alive.  He'd been stabbed twice in the ribs and there was one massive gash across his thigh, just missing a major artery.  Fenris must have bandaged him at some point to stop the bleeding.  Resigned to the fact he was unable to do anything else for himself, he examined his surroundings.  He'd never been in this building before.  The room wasn't much larger than a room one would rent at a tavern and yet, it housed everything that a person would need.  A small cooking area by the fireplace, a table with two chairs and a wardrobe in the corner.  Slowly piecing his thoughts together, he realized he was in someone's apartment.  His confusion only grew worse when he recognized some of his things in the apartment as belonging to himself.  He couldn’t imagine how they got here in the first place.  With a groan he buried his head in a pillow, hopeful that the healer would arrive soon to clear his mind of its fog.  

  


Fenris paced the hall outside their apartment.  He had let the healer in to examine Anders and decided to wait outside considering how small the place was and Anders earlier revulsion at his touch.  He needed answers.  He hated this uncertainty.  A nagging fear gnawed at his gut.  His anger refused to acknowledge it, to give it power over him, not until he had word from the healer.

The door creaked open and the mage they had met a few days ago emerged.  They met him at the docks and Anders made fast friends with the man, as was his tendency due to his open and friendly disposition.  

Fenris was not pleased at the healer's baffled expression.  “He's resting soundly now.  I’ve never seen a poison like this.  It’s affected his body in an odd manner.  He can no longer hold mana.  It’s as if he and mana are oil and water, refusing to mix together.  He also has a significant memory gap."

That gave Fenris a better answer as to why Anders was being so hostile toward him.  "How big?"

"Five years."

The fear from earlier exploded within Fenris, turning his blood to ice.  He couldn't speak, couldn't think.  He was utterly paralyzed as he was certain his heart stopped beating.  

The Kerrith coughed, drawing Fenris away from his grief.  “Is this condition permanent?”  

The healer had little comfort to offer.  "This is an unknown agent.  The fact that I don’t know how it will react if he is pushed too hard, is worrisome.  I would recommend that when he wakes that you take things slow.  If he doesn’t remember some things right away, give him time, be gentle.”

Not trusting ability to speak coherently, Fenris nodded and reached for his coin purse.  

A hand dismissed the gesture.  "No, thank you.  I have done little and offering my meagre services to Anders is the least I could do."  He moved as if he were going to clap his hand on Fenris' shoulder then, upon seeing the prickly armor, he changed his mind, resorting instead to clenching his fist awkwardly.  "I wish you luck.  I am truly sorry."

Once inside the modest dwelling, Fenris bolted the door shut.  Crossing the room felt arduous, as if he were weighed down by a mountain.  He locked eyes on the mage slumbering soundly on the bed and thanked the Maker for small blessings. It was the first time since the battle days ago that Anders slept soundly.

Fenris sat on the edge of the bed and removed his gauntlets.  He gently plucked at the tie holding Anders hair back, careful to not jerk at his hair.  As soon as it was free, he ran his fingers through the long locks.  It had grown long since they left Kirkwall two years ago.  Anders had kept it that way just for Fenris.  

Fenris' chest clenched painfully as he forced down a sob threatening to burst out. 

Five years. 

Five years ago they were still at odds with each other.  He and Anders constantly locked in a battle of bitter insults, each of them looking for the best way to cut the other down to the core.  Fenris wanted to rage at the Maker for what He’d stolen away.  Why couldn't it have been four?  Four years ago they had begun to understand each other.  

Three years since they fell in love.

Anders slept peacefully, unaware of the heartache that sat next to him.  Ignorant of the happy memories that had been robbed from him.  Fenris tasted a salty tear that had wandered to his lips.  He wiped his face with an angry hand and retreated to sit by the fire.  He knew that even with the aid of a draught, he’d be unable to sleep.

_Take things slow._

Fenris tried to be hopeful for the morning, but one thing that he learned from his former master, it was that life can be unrelentingly cruel.  

***

When Anders awoke, he was disoriented but comforted as bits and pieces returned to him.  He had been in a fight, stabbed and someone was taking care of him.  Knowing that he wasn’t captured sent a wave of relief through his body that actually did nothing for the soreness he felt.  He called out instead of searching the room.  "Hawke?"

"No.  Just me."  Fenris stood from his chair by the bed to look down at Anders.

“What happened?  Where is Hawke?”

Fenris’ ears twitched as he paused in thought.  “We...got separated from Hawke.  While traveling we were attacked.  That is when you were poisoned.  The effect being the loss of your magical ability.”

Damn.  So that part wasn’t imagined.  Looking up at his companion, Anders thought on what a cruel twist of fate it was that he was stuck with Fenris.  The one person who hated him above things all in the world.

"Go ahead.  Gloat.  I know you want to."  Anders tried to gesture with his hands but found that all efforts to move were exhausting.  “You’ve always hated our kind, I'm sure you're thrilled to see one of us set down, stripped of his Maker given abilities."

"You are wrong. I find no joy in watching you suffer, mage.  We do not know if the condition will be permanent.”

"Was that a glimmer of hope?  Haha!  From you?"  Anders tried to control his laughter, but instead resigned himself to the pain and let it bubble out of him.  “When did you develop a sense of humor?”

"Anders..."

"Bucket."  It was the only warning Anders could get out before he was spilling his guts over the side of the bed.  Again.

Fenris held his long hair back, he couldn’t remember keeping it this long, but then again nothing seemed right.  

Feeling defensive, Anders grumbled at Fenris.  “I am not weak.”  

“You can’t even sit upright.”

“You know what I mean.”  Anders spit out the collection of gunk his tongue collected from the inside of his mouth.  His body was already in chaos and he was in a strange place.  Rekindling his caustic banter with Fenris would bring some level of normalcy to his situation.  “Not all mages are weak, _elf_.”

“As I am well aware.”

Shocked, Anders pressed for insight.  “When...what?”  He closed his eyes and swallowed hard, trying to understand the drastic change that seemed to happen over night.  “What caused you to change your mind?”

“You did.”

The unexpected answer took Anders aback.  He was curious at Fenris' overall warm behaviour toward him.  Well, warm for the broody elf.  To now hear him speak of mages without venom in his words was a bit unnerving.  Maybe this was a sick twisted version of the Fade.

Anders watched Fenris sit cross-legged in front of the fireplace to sharpen his blade.  "You don't have to stay with me you know.  I’m sure I can handle things from here on out."

"I will not abandon you."

"So, what are you saying? That you are willing to stay, to care for me?"

The warrior’s arm never paused in its long sweeping motions.  "Always."

Fully convinced that he was indeed in the Fade, Anders pulled the blankets up to his chin, turned his back to his companion and intent on falling asleep, praying that everything would be righted in the morning.  

***

Things did not return to normal.  Fenris silently waited on Anders practically hand and foot.  Emptying the chamber pot, preparing broths, and re-wrapping Anders’ bandages.  Even when Anders would try to poke at the calcitrant elf, he would simply brush off the comment, never engaging in a full conversation.  

“Is this some joke?  Did Hawke put you up to this?  It’s not a very good one to be honest.”  Anders was scrambling to find an answer as to why after three days, Fenris was still the only one who tended to him.  Surely Hawke would have had time to track them down by now.  Her ability to do so had always been an inconvenience until now.  The one time that Anders wanted to be dragged off by feisty warrior, she was missing.

“Must you remark upon this every day?”  Fenris’ hands were wringing out freshly cleaned bandages in the small wash tub.

“Last week you told me that I was an out of control abomination and now you’re trying to be friendly to me?  It makes no sense.”

“I shall endeavor to be more spiteful towards you, if that pleases you.”

“Yes!  Wait, no.  I- _argh!_ ”  Fenris chuckled, a lovely smile creeped up his face bringing a sparkle to his emerald green eyes.  Anders had always admired the elf’s looks but now it was unbearable.  “You’re doing this because you want to drive me insane.  That must be it.”

Anders’ remarks were met with the customary silence he’d come to expect.  Sighing in frustration he unwrapped the largest bandage around his thigh, knowing that Fenris was nearly done with the fresh set.  Secretly, this was his favorite part of the day.  He enjoyed watching Fenris’ deft fingers dance over his skin.  

First was the wash rag, then he’d massage the poultice into the damaged areas.  Since his hands were constantly protected by gauntlets, his fingers had no calluses.  He loved how Fenris’ fingertips would glide over his body.  It was in these intimate moments he wished Fenris was sincere.  He wanted to believe him, wanted to indulge in the fantasy that they might one day like one another, but his hatred of mages was too entrenched for him to see Anders as anything other than a stain on society.

The denial was even more painful now that Anders could see that Fenris was capable of being affectionate.  

Perhaps in another life.

***

"Karl?  Karl!  Stop... **NO!  You monsters!!** " Anders woke late one night sweating and fighting with the sheets.  His shouts turned to sobs as he relived the day that Karl was made tranquil.  Like a fresh wound, he felt his heart bleeding all over again.  "No, Maker, please no."

"Anders!  Anders!"  Fenris was there.  He leapt onto the bed, wrapping his arms tight around the Mage, guiding Anders' head to cry into his shoulder.  With only the thought of comfort driving his actions, Fenris squeezed at Anders waist and ran his fingers through Anders loose hair.  For a few moments, it helped.

Out of habit, Fenris placed a small kiss on Anders earlobe which churned Anders stomach.  He pushed Fenris away.  "Get off of me!  What are you playing at?  What's wrong with you?"

"I-" Fenris stood quickly in a huff of frustration.  "You were in distress.  I sought to comfort you."  

"I don't want your insincere platitudes."  Anders scooted further away, drawing the blankets up around himself.

Fenris bit out a growl.  "They are not insincere."

"Oh, really?  That's a laugh."  Anders leaned back on the headboard, his tone mocking.  "When have you ever gotten past your own brooding to recognize the pain in others?  What do you even know of love?  Of passion..."

"Shut up mage!  I know your pain better than you could possibly imagine."  Fenris lunged forward to have their faces inches apart.  "I live with the brutal cruelty that you endured.  Standing in front of the man you love, his eyes vacant, his manner cold, the spark that was once shared between you suddenly snuffed out as if your years happiness had never happened."

Backing off, Fenris slumped into a chair.  "That day Justice took control, when he killed those Templars; I understand his outrage now."

Still laying in bed, Anders leaned forward, resting his weight on his elbow.  "What do you mean,  _now_?"

The question had Fenris snap his head back to Anders.  He debated internally, trying to weigh his options, worried over the possible outcomes.  His own selfishness wanted to tell Anders everything, to end his nightmare and pronounce that they were lovers, that they had been happy together.  He missed their intimacy.  He yearned for Anders laughter.  

Staring at Anders' confused expression, Fenris knew in his heart that he couldn't do it.  He couldn't risk damaging Anders any more than the poison had already.  If Anders got worse, he’d never forgive himself.

"I can't."  Fenris stood and left in a rush.  

He wore only a shirt and breeches since he couldn't stay another moment in that room.  For days he'd longed to touch, to hold his love, but it was impossible.  The one, small chance that he'd taken, he was soundly rejected.  

It stung harder than he could ever imagine.  

The city streets were empty in the early morning.  Fenris wandered for over an hour.  All of his thoughts were a jumble.  The memory of Anders excitement at having their first home together when they first found the apartment was overshadowed by the feeling of Anders hands shoving him away.  Five years wiped clean.  For Fenris, it felt like a lifetime.  The only years that truly held meaning him, the ones he cherished the most.

The only other people he came across were servants and merchants starting the day in the fading dusk before the city woke.  Lost in his own thoughts, Fenris didn't register the distinct metallic noise of armor until it was too late.  Ahead of him was a group five Templars stopping people at random and questioning them.

He knew it’d look suspicious if he tried to duck away.  At least Anders wasn't there, thank the Maker.  Continuing on his path, Fenris kept his head down, hoping he looked like any other unimportant servant running errands.  

Walking past, he overheard the men talking.  

"Don't know why we're still asking around, we've already picked up a healer apostate.  What more does the knight-captain want?"

"He says it's not the right one.  We're looking for a blonde, tall fellow."

Stopping dead in his tracks, Fenris took a gamble.  If they had already captured Kerrith and were actively looking for Anders, Fenris had to do something to ensure they stopped.  "I know the Mage of which you speak."

"Move along knife ear!  We're not offering coin for shoddy information."  The nearest Templar shoved him with his shield. 

Fenris could have easily maintained his footing but he wanted to appear helpless, unthreatening.  “Mages did this to me."  Fenris pulled back his long sleeves to reveal his lyrium markings.  "I can't find work, it frightens employers.  I want them to pay for what they did to me."

His pathetic story caught their attention.  "Alright, how do we know you're telling the truth?"  

"The mage you captured, he has black hair, is shorter than I and dark skin.  He goes by the name Kerrith."  Remaining prone in the dirt, Fenris fought the grin that threatened to ruin his plans.  These idiots were now enraptured with his information.  "I can get you the other mage you seek.  You have to use the other as bait to draw him out.  Tell me when and where and I will have him come to you, to 'rescue' his friend."

 

After the the details were settled, Fenris took a circuitous route back to the apartment, not wanting the Templars to learn where he lived.  It wasted precious time, but he had to be prudent.  Inside the apartment, the few items they possessed had been flung about.  Everything was turned on end.  Anders was gone.

Fenris donned his armor in haste and bolted from the building.  Driven by fear that the Templars had somehow found them, he tried to hold out hope his first thought was wrong.  Dread chilled him to his bones but determination burned hot within him.  Anders was still weak, surely he hadn't gotten far.  Fenris sprinted up and down each alley and street in the neighbourhood.  After what felt like an eternity, he spotted a tall, unmistakable figure.  Conscious of the fact that more Templars could be roaming the streets he refrained from calling out.  Instead he shoved the mage into the nearest alley.  The thin man stumbled over barrels and fell to the ground, becoming tangled in his hooded cloak and knocking over crates.

"What is the matter with you?!  What were you thinking going out alone and in this state?" 

Anders swung his staff at the elf, his aim missing horribly.  "You can go fuck yourself!  You didn't come back, and like an idiot, I was worried.  What do I find when I go looking for you?  I catch you selling me to the damn Templars."

"It's not what you think, fool mage!"

“Isn’t it?  Could have fooled me.  I'm guessing this is the part where you try to get me to go back with you.  Don’t waste your breath, it’s never going to happen, traitor."

“You ran from the Circle, ran from the Wardens.  Don’t you dare run from me!” 

"Are you threatening me?"

"No.  I'm _begging_  you."  His tone was colored by his fear.  He couldn't bear to lose Anders.  He pressed on, hiding his love to avoid any further questions.  "I don't have time for this.  You're coming back with me even if I have to throw you over my shoulder to do so."

"Ha!  I'll scream at the top of my lungs, accuse you of being a slaver and they'll have you locked up before you can say 'blood magic'."

Fenris narrowed his eyes at the desperate man sprawled before him.  Time was growing short and he needed to be on his way.  Drawing his sword, he rose it in a high arc, fear danced briefly in Anders eyes.  The blade sank into a wooden barrel, spraying Anders with ale.

"Good luck with your accusations now."  At that, Fenris knelt and picked up the mage from the ground like a bungle of soaked rags.

The walk home was silent.  Back at the one room apartment, Fenris left Anders standing in front of the fireplace.  “I will explain when I return.  Stay here.  There is no telling how many more Templars may still be patrolling the streets.  I will be back."

Fenris allowed himself to give Anders’ hand a small squeeze then, he was gone.

 

Anders stared into the fire for a long while before he finally began to feel uncomfortable in his wet clothes.  If he was to be captured, she should at least be dry.  Resigned to his fate of captivity once again, he kept his mind off the depressing thought by washing his clothes and straightening the room he trashed in his haste to leave earlier.

The day began to tick by and no one came for him.

Bored, and with nothing left to do, Anders looked over at the bed.  The bedding was still a mess, he might as well straighten that up too.  When he lifted the mattress to tuck in the sheets, he noticed a notebook.  Snatching it from its hiding spot, he instantly recognized it as one of his own.  He could even remember haggling with the vendor who sold it to him.  

When he began to flip through the pages, he was surprised to find someone else's handwriting within.  In the beginning, the letters were hardly better than nug scratching, a handful of pages used for practice.  Then he found the first real entry in the journal.

Deducing from the context, this book belonged to Fenris and he was the one who gave it to the insufferable elf.  Fenris had been acting strange since his injury and Anders took this opportunity to discover what in the Void was going on.  

Some entries were skipped, others read word for word.  All of them were about him, eventually evolving into ‘them’.  

They were a couple.

They fled Kirkwall together after the explosion.  One which he had planned, but could no longer recall.

Anders spent all afternoon reading the journal cover to cover.  He became interested in the entries were Fenris mentioned snippets of his life before Denarius.  Anders had thought those memories permanently lost, but something happened shortly after they began dating that jogged Fenris’ memory.  

Suddenly, the door burst open.  A the healer from a few days ago was helping an injured Fenris walk to the bed.  

"What happened to him?"  Anders helped to lay Fenris down on the bed.

"Crazy blighter rescued me from the Templars."  The tried to cast healing magic on Fenris.  

"No." The warrior grabbed at the man's hand but released it immediately as he passed out.   

Anders shook his head and went for some poultices he'd found while cleaning.  "He doesn't like magic.  It’s nothing personal.”

The two men worked together to tend to the minor cuts and bruises.  None were life threatening but Fenris was clearly exhausted.  

Before he left, the healer gave Anders a look over, using magic to thoroughly check all of his injuries.  “You’re nearly healed up but should eat more, get some exercise.  Your mana is looking to be on the mend as well.  Still wouldn’t recommend trying any spells until you have at least a half reserve.”  He nodded toward Fenris.  “He’s a good man.  He didn’t have to save me, don’t even know how he found me.  You’re lucky to have such a good friend who’s understanding of mages.”

Anders bade the man goodbye and closed the door behind him.  His entire world had been upended.  He sat in Fenris’ chair by the bed, his long legs knocking against the frame.  Fenris was undoubtedly the most handsome man that Anders had ever met.  Powerful, strong and apparently his lover.  Thinking of him in that way felt strange and yet, somehow right.

He reached out and let his trace the outline of Fenris’ long ear.  The elf grunted then twisted his head into the touch, his body reflexively enjoying the touch.  A small purr simmered in Fenris’ chest.  Anders doted on the elf until he too, fell prey to exhaustion.

***

Fenris woke to a familiar smell nearby.  With eyes still closed, he turned and pressed a kiss into that wonderfully silky soft hair he adored.

“Good morning to you too.”  Although he had ached for days to hear such sweet words, Fenris was startled by them.

Anders sat in a chair but had fallen asleep bent over the bed.  As he rose he wore a smile that make Fenris’ heart skip a beat.  The mage looked happy to see him, to be near him.

Fenris rolled over to place a hand on Anders’ knee.  “Do you remember then?  How things were between us?”

"No, I read your journal."

"Kaffas!"  Fenris' ears bent low as he growled at Anders.  "What gave you the right?!"

"What gave you?!  I lost five years and you keep this, _us_ , from me?"

"Kerrith was unfamiliar with the poison that was used on you.  He was concerned that moving too fast might cause more damage."  Fenris reached out, finally piercing through the invisible barrier he created for Anders protection.  He caressed the mage's unshaven jaw.  “These past few days have been torture for me.  I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you completely.”

"Kerrith is a fool."  Anders leaned into the touch, bringing his own hand up to hold Fenris'.  "I'm sorry I doubted you.  I want to start over.  Your words, I can't possibly turn away from that, from you.  I want to remember."

Fenris lost control.  He pulled Anders down to him, their lips crashing together.  He feasted on his lover's mouth.  It wasn't until the fourth deep, successive kiss that Anders began to tentatively return the embrace.  But they weren't the same.  The passion wasn't there.  

Fenris fell back on the bed with a sigh.  He was still grateful for this small progress.  Anders wanted to try, and it was more than Fenris could have hoped for.

“I saw in your notes that you can remember some of your life before...well, before _him._  Do you know what triggered it?”

“Oh.  The first instance was after we had sex for the first time.  It was a little unnerving at the time.  Why do you ask?”

“I would have thought that would be obvious.”  Anders’ cheeks colored a bit as he twisted in the chair uncomfortably.  

Sitting up fully, Fenris took Anders’ hand.  “I understand better than anyone what you are going through.  I will not force anything on you that you do not want.”

“After Karl, I was convinced I would never love again.  I thought myself doomed to die alone.”  He cupped Fenris’ jaw as he gazed deep into those beautiful green eyes.  “Somehow, you changed everything.  I want that, I want you.  Please help me.”

Fenris leaned in for another kiss, his arms wrapping protectively around his love.  It felt like the beginning all over again.  Anders was unsure and testing imaginary limits.  As the elf's tongue dove deep to capture every flavor, Anders returned the kiss in kind.  The mage's hands grabbed Fenris' firm buttocks, moaning shamelessly.  

Breathless, Anders paused the assault and boldly pulled his shirt over his head then stood to remove his breeches.  As he worked on his clothes, he watched Fenris stipping down in their bed, his eyes following the waves of muscles rippling under the lyrium infused skin.  His breath sank to the bottom of his lungs when Fenris freed his erection.  The little hesitation he had felt vanished.

Fenris returned his stare, admiring the mage’s lean body.  Anders had put on some weight since his injury and now looked healthy, plush, and desirably edible.  Fenris planned every spot he wanted to suck, prioritized each area he wanted to lick, all the while, waiting for Anders' to make the first move.  Large green eyes looked up to meet with Anders' honey-brown.  He held out a hand, inviting him into the bed. 

Accepting the invitation, Anders took his hand and lay down on the bed.  Fenris crawled on all fours to situate himself between Anders’ legs.  His hands skimmed up Anders' thighs, spreading them wide before they rested on his hips.  Fenris knelt between Anders' legs and began to mark a trail of kisses up the inside of the mage's thighs.  The way Anders’ body arched and his throat rumbled set Fenris' pulse racing.  Hearing him cry out as Fenris took him in his mouth was the sweetest sound to his ears.  The more Anders begged the more he wanted to give.  Deeper.  Wetter.  Every little trick that he knew Anders enjoyed, he used, lifting the mage's lust to the brink.

Then he stopped.  Fenris backed away to retrieve a small vial in a trunk by the bed.  He poured some of the oil in his hand and then began to coat his throbbing erection.

“May I make love to you?”

Nodding, Anders’ never stopped watching Fenris stroke himself.  "Easy, it's been a while."

Fenris chuckled as he eased two oiled fingers in, causing Anders to suck in a pleasured breath, pressing his head hard into the bed.  "Not as long as you think."

Although he could feel himself leaking on the bed, Fenris delayed his burning need to ensure that Anders was ready.   Fenris wanted this man become so consumed with pleasure that the Maker would hear his howls.  Anders’ body accommodated his fingers readily, even squeezing them a bit to heighten the intensity.  As Fenris played with his tight entrance, Anders slowly stroked himself, keening each time Fenris toyed with that magical bundle of nerves buried within him.  Soon, Fenris was feeding Anders' tight ass each inch of his hard cock.  Slow and gentle.  As much as he wanted to fuck Anders until he spoke in tongues, more than anything Fenris wanted savor this moment.  The elf swatted Anders' hands away and took complete control of their love making.  Fenris would bury himself to the hilt then slowly back out, all the while steadily pumping Anders erection.  He would wet his thumb in the moisture oozing out from Anders' slit, swirling his thumb over the tip.  He relished how Anders' body bounced each time he languidly thrust his hips.  The sweat that beaded on Anders' body glistened in the firelight, stroking the fire building in Fenris' core.  He fell forward, continuing to buck into his love as they kissed.  This time each one from both of them were filled with desire and passion.  For a while, there was no rush.  Only the sinfully pleasurable joining of their bodies.

Breathless, Anders panted into Fenris’ mouth.  "I'm so close, please, harder.  Oh, Maker,  _please_."

In a similar state, Fenris obliged.  He straightened up to grab both of Anders' legs as the mage took himself in hand.  Pounding relentlessly, he held tight to Anders, else the man would have his head driven through the wall.  While Anders stroked himself furiously,  Fenris stared, worshiping the gloriously erotic image sprawled beneath him.  

Anders' legs tightened and his hand clawed at the sheets.  " _Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck-nnugh yes, oh shit, yes!_ "

With one final slam, Fenris lost control, pouring himself into his lover who was also spilling his own seed all over his chest.  Spent, Fenris tumbled to Anders' side.

"Andraste's flaming knickers.  That was... _oh fuck_ , that was good."  Anders rolled away from Fenris to find something to use for clean-up.

Fenris was still swimming the warm glow of good sex that had been a long time coming.  He spoke out, not bothering to meet Anders' gaze.  "Do you remember anything new?  Do you remember what I said to you the first time you baked me apples?"  

Silence.  Then a reluctant, "No.  I don't think so."

"I must admit that the first time we were together, it was intense.  The sensations set coursing through my blood triggered something within me.  A seal was broken.  You are certain there are no new memories?"

"This was intense, but there is nothing new that I am aware of."  At Fenris' small pout, Anders kissed his neck.  "However, I will not discourage any future attempts.  I like your methods."

"Filthy mage."

“Speaking of memories, I noticed there were a few mentions of Hawke in that journal of yours.  Did you ever hold a candle for Hawke?”  The teasing smirk on Anders face made Fenris homesick for the days when all of their conversations were so light-hearted.

Fenris provided an answer he knew would keep Anders goading him.  "I do not wish to discuss it."  

Anders laughed then moved closer.  "It was her ass wasn't it?  Admit it.  I can't have been the only one who enjoyed following her around all these years, letting her take the front."  

Fenris hummed.  "Mmm, yes.  I do recall it being particularly well toned."

Anders laughed at a stray thought that came to mind.  "Remember how she used to punch you in the shoulder every time we reached a destination?"

"Yes."  Fenris leaned forward in his seat, in anticipation.  "You told me it was a Fereldan custom."

Anders grinned wickedly.  "Not exactly.  I couldn't resist myself one day and actually reached out and pinched her.  She turned on me and my first reaction was to pin the blame on you.  Later, I convinced her that you did it out of some eleven tradition that called for her to hit you, while convincing you of a similar lie."

Fenris thoughtfully considered this.  "Why would you involve her hitting me? The other ruse would have sufficed on its own."

"I enjoyed watching her hit you."  

Fenris chuckled deep in his chest as he nuzzled against Anders.  Thier legs became entwined and Fenris’ head rested on Anders’ shoulder.  

"You're not going to kill me in my sleep are you?"

"You're too charming to kill."  A satisfied sex induced sleep began to wash over Fenris.

“Fenris.”  Anders had to nudge him.  “Fenris.”

“Hmm?”

Anders spoke in a lowered voice.  “Was this what it was like, you know, before?”  

“Always.”  

***

Over the next few weeks, they learned to live together once again.  Anders was continually impressed with how well Fenris knew him and he enjoyed discovering their relationship anew.  Anders did eventually fully recover his mage abilities which he didn’t use often since they still made Fenris uncomfortable.  

When funds began to run low, Fenris took on an easy escort job with some mercenaries.  He was gone for three weeks and he'd left his notebook with Anders, but both men had long given up on the hope that Anders would regain his old memories.  They had tried every method they could think of and nothing had yielded any results. 

Once Anders had received a note from Fenris confirming when Fenris would return, he went to the market and spent the last of their coin getting spices and every apple the merchant had on hand.  Anders spent the better part of the afternoon baking tarts, preserves, and cookies.  He played with the different spices and types of apples, crisp green ones for the tarts, juicy red ones for the cookies.  After a few hours, there wasn't a surface other than the bed that didn't have some confection on it.  Surveying the room, Anders was admiring  his handiwork when he heard the lock on the door click free.  

"Vishante Kaffas."  Fenris' beautiful green eyes nearly popped out of his head eyeing every delectable treat.  "You did all this?  In here?"

Anders shrugged shyly.  "I remember you once asked if I remembered the first time I baked apples for you.  I don't, so I thought maybe I should."

"This is unexpected.  However, it is appropriate."  Fenris let his pack fall to the floor and pulled out a small package.  "I have something for you." 

He guided them to the bed to sit.  Anders chuckled as Fenris' ears twitched happily in anticipation as he tore through the wrapping.  Within, Anders discovered an Antivan leather bound journal.  The edges were rimmed with gold and a ribbon marker was built into the spine.  He ran his fingers over the soft cover, then flipped through the pristine white pages.  This was grander than anything he could have hoped to afford in Kirkwall, better than what was used in the Circles.  

Fenris became nervous at Anders' silence.  "I thought that you could use it to remember our new memories.  Together."

"Hold this."  Anders pushed the journal to Fenris as he leaned far over the bed to reach a small wooden box.  He withdrew a pot of ink and a quill.  Taking the journal back, he wrote the first words as he spoke.  "I may not remember what I said the first time, but this time, I know what I want to say."

He turned the open book to sit in Fenris' lap for him to read.  

_I love you_

Fenris couldn't tear his eyes from the words.  He wanted to bathe in them, hold them forever and bask in the warmth they brought to his life.  Anders was everything to him.  He survived losing him, suffered through winning him back.  To have this man's love, he would do it all again.

"Do you...love me too?"  Anders voice made Fenris realize he he'd lost track of time, unaware of how long he sat in silence.

With a broad grin, Fenris held out his hand to take the quill from Anders.  He added his answer underneath Anders' declaration with the refined script of someone who spent years putting his favorite memories to paper.

_Always_

 

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to [Pixievhenan](http://archiveofourown.org/users/pixievhenan/pseuds/pixievhenan) for being my beta and sound board.


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